Almost : by The Cold East Wind
by The Cold East Wind
Summary: So very much angst. Sorry. If you like having your heart ripped out, trampled on and thrown away, this ones for you. Major character death. Again, so very sorry, if it helps I've been told it's beautiful.


John, watched the elegant willowy form of the man he loved sway gently as he gave life to an achingly beautiful tune that pored more from him then it did from his Stradivarius. His heart swelled with each rich full bodied note, and his mind was made up. This man was his life, his breath. He wanted nothing more then to love him and be loved by him till the end of his days. John rose and walked over to join Sherlock by the window. He wrapped his arms around the the narrow waist and rested his head on the back of his neck, he felt Sherlock wiggle back into his embrace, "I love you more then even your brilliant mind could ever imagine." With a bit of a squeeze, John pressed a few lingering kisses to the back of his neck, and stepped away.

"I'm going out to the shops, back soon." Throwing on his jacked, he took one last glance back at his soon to be fiancé, a little secret smile filled is face as he rushed out of the flat and headed to the jewelry store.

The store was posh, but not uncomfortably so, John looked from case to case until he found what he was looking for. A pretty woman came over quickly to help him.

"Is there anything I can show you Sir?" The flirty blonde asked polite and bubbly, as she flashed her best "buy something smile."

"Yes Miss, that one there please, with the single diamond."

"You don't strike me as the type for such a piece, is it for a special occasion?" John couldn't help but smile.

"Your right on both counts. It's not for me, and it is for the most special of occasions, I'm going to ask my boyfriend to marry me." Her eyes widened and she brought her fist up to shake them gleefully as she squealed. "Oh I love love! This ring is so gorgeous, platinum and diamond, do you think he'll like it? What's his name?" John took the ring, and the weight of it felt perfect in his hand, cool and beautiful, just like his genius.

"I'll take it. And yes he'll love it, he'll fuss about the silliness of the whole thing and how ordinary I'm trying to make him, and he'll love it. His name is Sherlock." The pretty young woman just beamed at John the whole while as she rung him up and listen to him speak, that's why neither of them noticed the odd character who had wondered in. By the time the man had pulled out his gun and pointed at the woman helping John, he was already half way to the ground in the take down hold that John had him in when the single shot rang out.

Sherlock ran the whole five blocks to the jewelry store. When he got there, there was no need to ask any questions, the way the officers parted for him when he walked passed and hung their heads in silence told him all he needed to know, his feet began to feel like led, there was a buzzing in his head, and his stomach was heaving, he couldn't breath, he could see Johns date night shoes from the door way as if he where laying on the sofa back at Baker St. Sherlock felt his knees buckle, and Lestrade, was at his side.

"You don't have to do this right now. You can wait, you can just wait." Lestrade's eyes where red and wet and he was almost pleading.

Sherlock just shook his head and walked into the store. There on the floor blood was pooling into the blue carpet turning it a deep purple color, Johns blood. His life's blood. Sherlock dropped to his knees, and just held his shaking hands out hovering above Johns lifeless body, he didn't know what to do. His gaze fell on Johns wallet on the floor and next to it a small bag. Sherlocks mind was blank, there where no deductions, there wasn't even thought, just the buzzing and muffled voice and blood, so much blood. The bag was right at the edge of the pool now, Sherlock reached for it. Taking out the sales receipt with Johns name on it, he opened the the round burgundy box. He just stared, unwilling to believe what he was seeing. The morning flooding back into his mind with painful clarity. Making slow lazy love in the predawn light, giggling under the sheets together, washing John in the shower with absolute reverence, hot tea, the grey rooftops of London as he played his love for John, his last words. "I love you more then even your brilliant mind could ever imagine."

Sherlock hadn't even known he was crying until he laid his head on Johns chest, and watched as the blue of his shirt began to darkened, one fist clench the burgundy box that held his shattered future and the other Johns shirt. He stayed that way for hours, no one dare go near him, darkness has fallen and Sherlock saw a familiar pair of Oxfords come into his field of vision.

"Brother mine." A hand reached down to him to help him up. He took it, knowing it was time.


End file.
